


After Rannoch

by fennorians



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennorians/pseuds/fennorians
Summary: Javik realizes Shepard is beginning to mean more to him than he ever could have predicted.
Relationships: Javik/Male Shepard (Mass Effect)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	After Rannoch

**Author's Note:**

> The Shepard in this fic is an original character, his name is Demeter (though it's not mentioned) and he's a Vanguard. I played him as a full paragon and that gave him a really interesting dynamic with Javik, which got me thinking about how they might influence one another, and then this happened.

Javik would never, ever admit it, but watching Shepard leap from the transport and charge at a Reaper armed with nothing more substantial than a targeting laser had sparked a pulse of very real fear in his chest.

He hadn’t felt anything like that in so long, he’d forgotten the way it made his pulse race and his throat tighten up. Of course, his years of training had kicked in and he’d instantly quashed the sudden blaze of emotion, wrestling it back behind his steely demeanor, but that it had been there at all was new and frankly disturbing.

Javik was not an emotional man. He’d never had the luxury of lingering on his feelings or letting them control his decisions. He’d grown up in a dying empire being torn apart by a brutal war. Battle was his identity and cold logic was his guidance. He’d learned early on that his emotions would only lead him to crushing defeat.

But this day, under the gold-orange sky of Rannoch, he’d been...almost frightened. There was no better word for it. Shepard had looked so brave, his jaw set and his gaze determined as the door slid open and he gripped the laser in both gauntleted hands, and Javik had felt afraid and worried and uncertain all at once.

Logic dictated that Shepard was only one man, and one man was a more than acceptable casualty if it meant taking out a Reaper. But something deep within him that he’d always forced down dictated that he wasn’t just any man, he was  _ Shepard _ . 

He’d been there when he awakened from cryosleep. He was the first one Javik had melded minds with, the blueprint for his understanding of this new galaxy. He’d been nothing but polite - even friendly - to him, despite the harsh demeanor Javik prided himself on. Shepard was an enigma, a kind man that insisted on befriending everyone and yet somehow managed to be a strong leader. Javik had never met anyone like him.

He could hardly remember what it felt like to care about anyone like that. It was unprecedented that he was even capable of worrying for another, much less a human with more emotions than common sense and all too much compassion and infinite reserves of patience and an unfortunate habit of trying to play the diplomat and green eyes that shone with flecks of gold when the light hit them just right -

_ Wait, what? _

Fifty thousand years of cryosleep followed by months on a primitive warship had definitely driven him out of his mind. He shook his head to clear it and reached towards the elevator’s control panel, tempted to retreat back down to the safety of engineering instead of continuing his journey to the Commander’s cabin, but he paused before letting his hand fall back to his side. He needed to see if Shepard was fit for duty after Rannoch. Business and nothing more. Soldiers were supposed to make certain their leader was not emotionally compromised or otherwise unfit for active service.

Javik took a breath to steady himself as the elevator halted with a ping and he strode up to the door to Shepard’s cabin. The lock’s indicator light shone red. That likely meant that he didn’t want to be disturbed. Javik nearly turned away again, but remembering that stunt Shepard had pulled gave him pause. It had been reckless and risky and even though it had worked, the stress of it might have gotten to him. It would be in everyone’s best interest if someone made sure he was alright, and, well, no one else was standing outside his cabin.

Decision made, he pressed down the intercom button. “Commander, may I speak with you?” He decided to keep it simple. Maybe a little vague, but he preferred it that way.

The link crackled to life with Shepard’s voice. “Sure. Come in, Javik.” He sounded exhausted, voice rough and weary. It was a jarring change from his usual confident tone, and one that absolutely did not concern Javik in the slightest.

The indicator light changed from red to green, and Javik wasted no time in opening the door. The cabin beyond was dim. A display case of model ships glistened in the blue glow from the fish tank. It was quiet, the drive core humming faintly from far below.

Shepard was sitting on the couch, scrolling through a datapad with a vacant expression on his face. He looked up as Javik approached and his lips curved into a small smile, the scar bisecting them twisting with the motion. “Hey.”

“Commander.” Javik stood stiffly at the top of the steps leading down to the living area. He folded his arms behind his back, suddenly unsure of what to say. He pushed back the sudden urge to flee the room and remained stock still, gazing at the human.

“What is it? Did you need something?” He set the datapad on the low table and stretched. That was such a  _ Shepard _ thing to say, trying to be helpful even when he was clearly exhausted and he’d charged at a Reaper not two hours ago. Javik squared his shoulders and reminded himself that it was foolish for him to care so much and not endearing in the slightest.

“I came to make certain you are still in fighting shape after the mission earlier.” Javik kept his tone carefully neutral. “You fought a Reaper on foot. As a member of your crew, I find it necessary to ensure my Commander is fit for duty.”

Shepard reclined against the back of the couch with a slow exhale. “It’s sweet of you to worry.” 

Javik made an indignant noise in the back of his throat, about to snap at him that he  _ wasn’t  _ worried, he was the Avatar of Vengeance and he did not worry about things like overly-trusting humans, but Shepard interrupted him. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m still a little petrified. Even though I had the entire Flotilla backing me up, I still felt alone with that Reaper when I was down there. It was massive and ancient, and I knew I could never hope to understand it. ” 

A dark cloud of some deep, unnameable sadness flickered across his face. “And what happened to Legion was horrible. I’ll miss him. I know you don’t like synthetics, but to me, he was a friend.” He sighed. “At least he died for a reason. He’ll be remembered.”

Javik tensed even more. He hadn’t expected him to be quite so open or emotional. Javik was not the sort of person one went to for comfort or friendly advice, and Shepard was not the kind to be so free with his true thoughts.

His common sense seemed to return to him in a rush, and he ran a hand through his stark white hair with a sigh. The look on his face was downright haunted, a thousand ghosts behind his eyes. “Sorry for this. I know you don’t want to listen to me complain. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s...understandable, I suppose. To want to speak of it.” He was lost for words, and yet he was walking towards Shepard instead of away from him. All his training and years of experience were shouting at him to turn away, to leave the cabin, but his instincts kept him moving forward. “I know you cared for the geth...for Legion. And I know better than most what it means to stare down a Reaper.”

“Thanks, Javik.” He half-smiled. If he was surprised by his reaction, he didn’t show it. “You can sit, if you want.” He gestured to the white cushions of the couch, drawing his legs up under him to make room. 

Javik silently accepted the offer, seating himself beside the Commander with hesitant motions. Shepard looked smaller without his armor, dressed in the blue-gray Alliance uniform he wore around the ship. His hair was ruffled and unruly, pale strands sticking up at odd angles, and an angry red abrasion stood out on his cheek.

“You did well earlier. Your actions could easily have resulted in your death, but they did not.” His heart absolutely did not twist when he thought of Shepard falling in battle. “Perhaps primitives have some strength to them after all.”

“You’re realizing this now and not after we took down the geth dreadnought, or saved the Citadel, or defeated the Reaper on Tuchanka?” He let out a weary chuckle, mingled bitterness and levity. 

Javik scowled. “The thresher maw took out that Reaper.”

“And I was running around under it, fighting three brutes at once while trying not to get crushed. You’re tough to impress.” Shepard’s eyes sparkled briefly before that haunted look returned. 

“One does not live through what I have and remain easily impressed.” Javik kept his tone brusque, refusing to show any of his growing concern. Javik knew the anguished look he wore, had seen it in the eyes of those who were on the verge of breaking under the massive stress of war. Before, he’d only seen those with that distant look as a liability, the weakest links in the chain. Now, he felt a spark of something he couldn’t name. Shepard could not be allowed to break. 

The galaxy would follow if he did.

Javik spoke again, as though he could or wanted to, erase the harshness of his prior words. “I meant what I said. Your bravery, reckless though it was, paid off. Today ended in victory - something rarely achieved against the Reapers.”

Shepard actually smiled at that, shifting almost imperceptibly closer to him. “Give yourself some credit. You helped too.” 

“I would be a poor soldier if I did not aid my Commander.” His voice grew quieter despite himself. “Though I was not the one on the ground with the Reaper.” 

“Want to join me next time?” He let out a rough laugh. “I can’t recommend the experience, but we work well together.” There was a hint of something Javik couldn’t understand in the sudden softness of his voice and the way he looked at him. Shepard was more perplexing than he had any right to be.

“Of course you fight better with a Prothean warrior at your side.” Javik scoffed. To his surprise (and somewhat dismay), he almost felt bad about the harshness of his tone. Shepard didn’t seem perturbed. He rested his chin in his hand, brow creasing as he thought. 

“I mean, you are the expert at fighting Reapers. But even without that, I think we make a good team. Formidable.” He shot him an inquiring look, as though wordlessly wondering if he felt the same.

He did, but the words stuck bitter in his throat, and  _ when had he moved so close to him? _

Javik tore his gaze away from him, mentally kicking himself for getting into such a messy and vulnerable situation. This was so far beyond the realm of anything he was used to. He should’ve left the moment he was certain the mission hadn’t compromised Shepard’s ability to lead.

Instead he found himself staying frozen in place, asking, “Are you certain you’ll be fit for duty?” in a voice that veered far too close to emotional to be his own. He would have been far more comfortable repeating the battles earlier, in his element among the acrid smoke and flying bullets and exploding grenades, than he was sitting in a peaceful cabin next to his Commander.

“Look, I’ll be fine tomorrow. Just not now.” He rubbed his temples, a gesture Javik had come to know often signaled the onset of a headache. “You can go, I know this isn’t the sort of thing you care about, especially since I’m...god, I’m mourning an AI.” His shoulders drew together. “I’ll take care of myself. I promise I’ll be back to normal by morning shift.”

Javik knew he should seize the chance to leave. Shepard was absolutely right; he didn’t care for feelings and comforting others. He’d been offered a clean exit. His usual haunt in engineering was free of awkward situations he couldn’t handle if he tried and grief for a synthetic and Commanders who were strong through battle after battle but vulnerable during the quiet moments in between.

For whatever insane reason, he couldn’t bring himself to take the safe way out, not when Shepard’s expression was frozen in a careful mask of neutrality that was so fragile Javik half-expected to see cracks appear on his pale skin.

So he stayed in place and took a breath to steady himself, as he did before marching into battle or taking aim for the shot that would end a foe’s life. “Do you want me to leave?”

Then Shepard was looking up at him and he was frozen in place as surely as if he’d been paralyzed. The sudden emotion in those dark green eyes - fear and exhaustion and need all layered together - took his breath away. “No.” The answer was barely a whisper, his lips parting around that single word that rooted Javik in place in this horrible disaster-waiting-to-happen of a situation.

“Then I will stay.” The words slipped out without permission and he hated himself for saying them, for that lapse in judgement. He had to be out of his mind. There was no way he actually wanted to be here with the Commander, sitting close enough to him to clearly see the weariness etched into his face, the scars slicing through his hairline and brow and lip...

There was still a smear of ochre dust staining his face, a reminder of his earlier trials on Rannoch. Without thinking, Javik reached out to brush it away.

Shepard actually leaned into his touch, eyes squeezing shut. His skin was warm beneath his hand. Javik could hear the way his breath hitched at the contact and he suddenly couldn’t move away.

“Is there anything else you need of me, Commander?” He made one last attempt to keep the situation strictly professional and under control. He was only doing this for Shepard’s mental stability so the mission would not be compromised, there was no other reason. There could be no other reason.

Those millenia in cryosleep must have affected him worse than he thought, because he couldn’t even lie to himself anymore.

“Just stay with me.” Shepard was trying to hold back, it was obvious in the waver of his lower lip and the tension set in his shoulders. “I’m tired. Of losing my friends, of being alone...I’m just tired.”

He knew nothing he said would make Shepard feel better. He was at a loss for words, but not for actions.

He dropped his hand from his face in favor of draping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough that their legs brushed together on the couch. This was the sort of affection he’d seen between the human crew of the Normandy. He imagined it somehow made them feel better, and it seemed easier than figuring out the right gentle words to console him.

Shepard’s eyes grew round with shock and he stiffened like he was about to shove him away - gods, why didn’t he shove him away? - but then the tension seemed to drain from him. He slumped against Javik’s shoulder with a defeated sigh.

“I am with you.” Javik reassured him. “Now and until the end of the line.”

They sat together in silence, the minutes blending together until he lost track of them altogether. The only sounds were the bubbling of the fish tank, the distant hum of the engine, and their mingled breathing. Somehow the Commander had ended up pressed against him, his arms wrapped warm around him. He was so soft despite all his musculature, unguarded despite the strength and resilience Javik knew resided in his sturdy frame. Humans really were delicate creatures. 

He knew he shouldn’t care, but the fact that Shepard trusted him like this made him feel...honored? No, something deeper, something he couldn’t define and maybe never would be able to.

Maybe it would have to be enough to simply enjoy the feeling.

Shepard stirred against him and Javik marveled at how this quiet, vulnerable man was the same one who shouted down quarian admirals and fought Reapers and tore apart brutes with nothing but his biotics. Primitives were so strange, but this particular brand of strange nuance and contradiction was one he’d come to associate with Shepard.

Shepard, who refused to leave anyone behind or compromise his morality even when common sense called for it. Shepard, who was a relentless force on the battlefield as he barked orders and tossed enemies this way and that with his biotic fields, advancing without hesitation no matter what the Reapers or Cerberus threw at him. Shepard, who befriended krogans and trusted synthetics and spared Rachni and extended his hand to others instead of crushing them under his heel. Shepard, who was driven by mercy and compassion that Javik had long associated with weakness and who succeeded over and over again despite that, or perhaps because of it. Shepard, who he would never understand but had come to care for far too much in such a short time.

Then Shepard, as unpredictable and contradictory as ever, leaned in and rested his forehead against his and Javik damn near forgot how to breathe. The contact was intimate and unlike anything he had ever felt before. He never let anyone this close, never tried to comfort anyone, but he wasn’t about to push Shepard away. The human was practically trembling in his arms. He wondered how often he’d fallen apart like this with no one around, alone in the quiet of his quarters as he struggled with the weight of the galaxy’s future.

No matter how many times he’d broken and put himself back together alone, Javik silently vowed that he would not have to do it again. He was a soldier, and Shepard was his Commander, and this was just one more battlefield they would share.

They stayed like that, bathed in the blue light as time ticked by, Shepard holding onto him like his life depended on it. Javik’s hands had somehow ended up in his hair, running the impossibly soft white strands between his fingers, and on his broad back, keeping him in place against him. He was warm and soft and more defenseless than he’d ever seen him.

There was something about holding the Commander like this that made him feel almost at peace, secure in the knowledge that he was here and alive and he had not yet fallen to the Reapers. 

A bitter voice inside Javik’s head reminded him that the war was far from over, they were still entrenched in a lethal struggle for survival and there was no guarantee that he and Shepard would not die horribly tomorrow, or the day after, or the week after. Javik had seen his entire civilization reduced to nothing but ash and dust and far-flung ruins by the Reaper’s beams. He knew nothing was permanent.

For once in his life, Javik ignored that voice. It was true that they could all be dead sometime in the next twenty-four hours, that this cycle could end like his own had, in fire and darkness as the light of civilization was extinguished, but that wouldn’t take away this moment. Right now, he was here and it was quiet and he was entwined with Shepard on the couch in the peaceful dark of his quarters. No matter what the next days brought, the Reapers could never erase that they had shared this moment of tranquility.

Javik could be turned to nothingness beneath those horrible beams of crimson light within the next day. Even if he was not, even if by some miracle he lived to see the end of the war, he and Shepard would never be here again. 

Perhaps that made it worth lingering in the moment.

So Javik stayed with him, committing each second to memory, learning the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of eezo and gunmetal that lingered on him. He didn’t know quite what was transpiring between them and he certainly didn’t know why some well-hidden and oft-ignored part of his mind was enjoying it, but he  _ was _ . 

Words and logic had failed him, and maybe that didn’t matter as much as the fact that he felt more alive than he had in far too long. It was foolish and beyond all reason or rationality, but his seemingly inexhaustible ability to not care had finally given out. It was just him and Shepard here, and what they were sharing was something sacred, no matter how much his centuries of harsh experience were screaming that this was a weakness that he would only come to regret later when his enemies exploited it.

But if Shepard fell asleep in his arms and he effectively froze in place so as not to disturb him, if he relaxed under the human’s touch and held him and silently reveled in the closeness he’d never let himself feel before, if they lay in each other’s arms for so long that their breathing practically fell into sync, no one ever had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> this ship is a fucking canoe


End file.
